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Back to 2010 Logs Goa Slipstream Slipstream transmits, "Gooey, if you are around the Spire of Victory, would you swing by?" Goa transmits, "On my way. Do you have a contact?" Slipstream transmits, "Contact? No." Goa transmits, "... Acknowledged." Many decaclicks later, a familiar green Decepticon rolls by, making a couple of circles around the spire. "Slip?" Slipstream is at the Spire of Victory, seated with her back and wings against the spire itself. "over here." Goa does a bit of maneuvering and drives right up to the seeker, so close that he'd bump into her if he so much as released his brakes. His radiator billows forth heat -- he'd apparently wasted no time getting here. "What is it?" Slipstream fans her hands toward the heat producing grillwork on the grounder, "Sit with me?" she asks, patting the spot next to her. "... Are you alright?" Goa says, turning his wheels aside in some ground-vehicular gesture that may as well be another language to a seeker. In the pause before he transforms his engine stutters in the pattern of changing gears, be it an actual gear change or a prelude to the shift. As he stands, his arms hang at his side, and he looks over Slipstream unsurely. The mech's mouth hangs open, still venting off heat. Slipstream watches Goa transform and nods her head, looking up at him. "Yes, I'm all right." she replies, cocking her head a little. "You didn't have to race over here you know." "Nah, but I did." Goa grins widely, then seems to let his legs go like a ragdoll; he falls to his knees and scoots into the spot Slipstream pointed out, looking over at her. "Feel weird. Not much time to divvy up. But I still feel weird." +Roll: Slipstream rolls against her Awareness Stat and fails by 0! The total roll was 10. Slipstream peers over at you and smiles a little, "Feel weird? Should I be worried?" she asks curiously, she reaches over to take your hand. Squeezing lightly. "We haven't had any time alone in awhile." Goa's eyes brighten a shade or two of alarm. "Oh..." He tenses up his motors in response to contact, then lets them limp, slumping backwards like a toppled scrapheap. "No. Sorry." Slipstream nods to the apology, "Things have been a little odd lately. But now I have time off, and I do believe you are due off shift too. So here we are." she smiles. Goa flips up a pair of orange antennae that'd previously been hidden in the shadow of the contour of his helmet, expression nearly conniving... he holds that for some time, probably thinking of the smarmiest answer, then squeezes her hand back. "Do you have something about big towers with corpses hanging off of them, Slippy?" He smirks. "Didn't I meet you out near here?" Slipstream shifts her gaze up at the sudden movement then smiles, "You got them fixed." she looks back toward you, "Something for towers with corpses? Not really. And yes, this was a spot we met at toward the beginning of our rather.. tumultuous relationship." One antenna lowers slightly, accompanying Goa's now incorrigible smirk to give him a wry look. "Tumultuous?" He chuckles, then scoots over a bit -- actually, a lot closer, leaning his helmet on the seeker's chest. "I've fixed a lot of things, Slip. But this half-baked logic board'll probably follow me to the well of all sparks." One of his similarly orange fingers traces Slipstream's chin. "Just sayin'." Slipstream hmms softly and nods to the question, then she reaches up to stroke her hands over your helmet, "Maybe it will fix itself one day Gooey." she murmurs softly, your audio may just pick up the regular rhythm of her energon pump and cooling system. She idly fingers the tip of one of the antennae. Goa resists the reflex to snap the sensor back in, instead diverting the motion command to a flinch of his far, weight-supporting hand. He rests his cheek against her -- the pits are a bit noisy ... he'd never noticed. The glow of his optics steadily dims until they're nearly off, odd decay-orange things that they are. "... What would you be doing if there wasn't a war, Slippy?" Slipstream strokes a finger every so slowly and gentle down that antennae, trying to see if you react in a good or bad way. She hmms softly to the question, "I suppose I would have found something to do with myself. Perhaps join up with some aerial mission off planet. Go see the universe. Or maybe I would stay home, helping the aerial academy out with newbies." Goa doesn't immediately react, but his delayed reactions quickly prove that's a strain for him ... his optics first blaze to pure red, then he starts to shudder, and he eventually chirps an overwhelmed, but not entirely uncomfortable sound. "It's fine, have to get used to it again somehow," he mumbles. "What would you rather be doing?" Slipstream stops what she is doing at that odd chirp of a response, so goes back to stroking your helmet. She hmms, "Just fly for long periods of time. It brings me joy." she tells you honestly, "But to be honest, I rather just sit with you, talk, touch, kiss..." Goa places Slipstream's hand back on the antenna slat, nose tilted down such that his expression is unreadable, just before throwing his legs across the flier's lap. "It's fine. They're new. I have to equalize them out again. ... and it doesn't feel bad." His arms hook around her shoulders, cheek still pressed in and aimed down. "Would be interesting in the airspace if there was ever a truce..." Slipstream smiles as you move her hand back up there, so she strokes the antennae again just as gently and slowly. "Okay Gooey." she whispers softly, shifting her body a little as you settle your legs into her lap "It would." she agrees. One leg kicks slightly, and his ventilation seems to spin up, to an attentive listener. "You don't seem bothered by that..." Goa bursts those same fans into a high RPM, sighing through his sides. "... I shouldn't be talking about this. I need to go back to the drill hall and get a pep talk, or something." Slipstream frowns a little to that last bit. "Pep talk?" she asks, "Gooey, I have no intention of letting you leave just after you got here. Stay with me here.. please?" she moves a hand to stroke over your upper back, the other hand moving to tip your head up so she can look you in the optics. Goa flutters his optics a few times, his face utterly drained ... until he manages to process the femme's tone, her meaning. "Where would I even go? You know slagging well I'm never going off world again." He smirks, but his antennae click limply back, underscoring his worried gaze. "I miss the underground. I miss Cybertron ... the way it was ... but, I guess that didn't have you." He pulls up the bottom lid of his optics, and it almost quivers. "I'm not sure what it had, actually ... but it was simple. And free, in a ... but I've had more than enough time free." Slipstream listens to your rambling, nodding to the beginning. She knows full well your off planet mission days are over considering what you went through on the last mission. She kisses the top of your helm and says, "I wish I knew what it was like before I was created. All I have are old holovids. You at least got to see it, touch it, experience it." she relates, then a pause, "But that free time wasn't spent with someone you love." The mech's optics glisten -- a violet border forms around them, preluding a couple of drops of energon trailing down his rather flat face. "... I still wanna share that." He turns his faceplate back down, trying to downplay his teetering voice by down-modulating it a couple of octaves. "Can't hide my loyalties from her, and I may's'well not try with you. I just want some slagging peace, I'm af- ..." Goa shifts, and his voice rises back to normal, though a monotone. "... old enough to know better." He picks off one of Slipstream's hands and strokes it with his, feeling it over, in a methodical pattern as typical when the mech's utterly terrified by something... Slipstream isn't sure why there was a couple of what could pass for tears on Goa's face, not why his voice is alternating like that, but she's reasonable sure something it going on that he's not vocalizing. "For now Gooey, we have a little peace. Let's enjoy it while we can." she says, smiling a bit to the hand strokes, "I wonder sometimes what is going on in that green helm of yours... what you are thinking..." she moves a hand under the cape now, stroking the thin metal below it. She shifts back a bit so she can move the other to place it where your spark may lie within your chest. "Sometimes I wonder if .. when.. we spark merge.. if you'll finally let me in." Goa stays curled here for some time, every now and again gently heaving in a sob -- but not the slightest sound comes from his vocalizer. Finally, after a muffled snarl, he lifts his helmet back up and lays it on the seeker's shoulder, faceplate frozen and blank. There're slightly stained streaks on the same, but their tone almost matches the middle-gray of the silicon. Under either of the femme's hands, the rumbling of Goa's engine is apparent and quite heated, nearly an angry buzz. His cab and chest both shift and resettle. "I will if I can. I usually don't let myself in either." A glow casts across the side of Slipstream's helmet as peering orange eyes study her -- and Goa now seems to be appreciating the observant quality of his sensor upgrade, both antennae twitching in response to every little movement. Slipstream feels the sobbing type motion, but keeps to her task of soothing her hands over his back in a comforting gesture. She smiles a bit to the buzzing of his engine, the warming of his armor, "But first, you ... we.. need to tell Firestorm about us." she tells him. She turns her head a little and kisses his nose. "Something's wrong... isn't there?" The quick sentiment of a kiss is all it takes to calm Goa down, take him out of his panic, though perhaps not knock him back to his characteristic colorfulness of demeanor. "Too many questions, and too many answers. Nothing you shouldn't already know..." He starts to smirk, then seems too weak to hold it, just smiling wistfully. "She knows. Doesn't take a rocket scientist. Just ... don't know how. If it would break, affect my link with her ..." He mumbles a little. "Or if she's comfortable with it." Slipstream ohs softly to that answer, then nods, looking you in the optics. "How does she feel about it Gooey?" she asks. "Is she at least okay that we are together?" she hugs you around the middle under that cape and says, "We don't have to.. merge like you two did.. I mean if she's uncomfortable with it." Goa lanky midsection is almost thin for a hug, and Slipstream finds that her squeeze pushes the thicker plate up, forcing the mech's torso forward and-- he face plants on her shoulder, chuckling through smushed lips. "Is she what? I don't know," he sputters out, stabilizing his hands on the ground. "I didn't ask. I never felt like there was a problem ... just ... that. You're friends. 've you talked to her?" Slipstream releases the hug and leans back now, she hmms and says, "Is she okay with us being together Gooey." she repeats, then a shake of her head, "I haven't, no. I could if that is necessary so she knows I'm serious about you.. about us." "She'd better be." There it is. Warmer face now. Goa lays himself out at the femme's side, sharing in her reclinement. "You keep talking about us as a group, so we'ull. Next barracks run." He reaches out with one hand and feels over the canopy contour. His antennae cautiously click forward again, curiously following whatever tilt his helmet assumes. Slipstream smiles a bit to that and lays down with you, "She's your sister, Gooey, of course she's part of us." she states softly, a soft mm as you feel her canopy as she shifts a little to get comfortable, a leg draping between your legs. She lays her head on your chest and sighs. Goa peers down at the helmet against his chest, and at the back behind it ... and produces a thoughtful, then halting-- understanding hum. "So you're not gonna suspect me for a deserter?" Long hands hold the same helmet close. Goa's previously heated thrum is slowly petering down in the calmness, though with a sound almost like his fueling systems are struggling. Slipstream tilts her head a bit and asks, "What do you mean deserter? You aren't thinking of pulling something like that are you?" she asks, almost afraid of the answer. Goa threads his fingers between the plate at the side of Slipstream's helmet and the primary curve of the helmet armor itself. He snorts... then snorts again, then laughs weakly. "I might be a romantic about Cybertron, but I don't let that make me stupid, Slippy." All his limbs seem to shift closer at once. "'Specially not with you." Slipstream mmms softly as you hold her helm like that, then smiles, "So be romantic with me.." she suggests quietly, "I could use it right about now." A cool glow from below his face would evidence that his chest grille has already slid out of place. He squeezes the hand in his grip, and his gaze looks nearly pleading, fearful. Category:Logs Category:Goa's Logs Category:Slipstream's Logs Category:2010 Logs